


The Dark Lord of McDonalds

by HPFanficClub



Series: HPFanficClub Group Writes [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, McDonald's, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFanficClub/pseuds/HPFanficClub
Summary: HPFanFicClub's Group Write for July 2020Prompt;Tom Riddle was supposed to be great. Alas, there he was, behind the register at a fast food restaurant.Writers;LeiutenantofSatan, infinitefalltohell, JMilz, someonesbeenhere, Acidflower2973, ExoticCumquat
Series: HPFanficClub Group Writes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000644
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	The Dark Lord of McDonalds

**Author's Note:**

> Discord server HPFanFicClub do a group write each month where our users take turns to complete a fic starting with a basic prompt!
> 
> If you'd like to join in, follow the link below to join us!
> 
> https://discord.com/invite/harrypotterfanficclub

“That will be £7.50,” he said dully.  
“Welcome to McDonalds. May I take your order?” He said on autopilot, raising his head towards the next person in line but not really seeing them.  
“Voldemort?!” Came a shriek from the person in front of him, jarring Tom out of his monotony.

Tom's eyes widened, looking around McDonalds with a panicked expression, looking if anyone other than him and the person in front of him heard. They hadn't. Everyone was in their own state of mind, and for that, he was glad.  
"Shut up!" he hissed.  
"Sorry, it's just... Well, I suppose I didn't expect to see the Dark Lord working here of all places." The unwelcome visitor stifled a laugh. "I'd ask you to conjure me up a Big Mac but I reckon Harry Potter would disarm you before you so much as thawed the beef!"

"Just order already, I don't have all day, do I?" Tom looked to his watch for emphasis, hoping to get through to this unwelcome customer.  
"If you don't hurry, I will get you an ice cream, whether you want one or not. Those things don't get cleaned, EVER." He smirked, waiting for the customer's reaction.

"Woah, chill out Dark Lord of Mcnugget," the customer chuckled. "Now tell me, are you running the Death Eater special today? It's a Big Mac with a side of misguided loyalty and bitter defeat right?"  
Tom seethed as the customer chortled at the once all powerful dark wizard who now sported an ugly cap emblazoned with a golden M and smelled overwhelmingly of burger grease.

"I'm warning you, Weasley..." he hissed.

"Oh no, he's warning me," George Weasley announced to the line forming behind him. "Seems like bad customer service, ought I get the manager?"

"No!" Tom snarled quietly, glaring at George with all he had. "You will most certainly not get the manager!"

"Brilliant, then I'll take a very hot, very free Big Mac with a large chip and drink."

"I can't give it to you for free," Tom hissed.

"Well, I don't have any Muggle money on me, so you'll have to figure it out unless..." George smirked and sang, "Oh, Voldemort's manager!" 

"Fine!" Tom reached into his own pocket and unfolded his wallet, which had only a few pounds inside of it. "Now, go wait over there. You're holding up the line."

Tom hated his manager, a child. Why, if he was still powerful, he'd... He'd, well he didn't know what he would do. To be honest, Tom's fall from grace, or should that be disgrace? Had hit him hard. He was no longer sure of who he was.

Images of torture and death played over and over in his mind as the large customer slowly put in his order. How was he there, paying for a Weasley's meal, working for an eighteen-year-old boy, when he had once been such a force to be reckoned with?

"Hello? Hello, did you hear me?"

The mustached man's voice brought him back to reality.

"What?" he hissed.

"Well, you weren't pressing the buttons," the man said. "Usually to take the order, you have to press the buttons!"

Tom inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring impressively.

"Listen, Susan, I don't have time for this. I know you think you're special, but, you're really not. Just wait."

"Hey, are you callin' me a woman?" the man asked, angrily. "Who's in charge here? Go get your supervisor."

"I - "

"Excuse me, Tom, but there wouldn't be a problem here, would there?"

Right on cue, Jacob the manager sauntered out, his hand dramatically on his hip and his brow cocked judgmentally. He loathed Tom, and Tom loathed him right back.

"No, Jacob. There's no problem. This nice man here was just getting his large Big Mac meal."

"And don't forget my McChicken!" He suddenly went red. "It's for my...my wife."

"Right..." Tom said, poking the necessary button. "And the McChicken for your wife."

Jacob nudged Tom. "And what do we say to the fine man?"

The large man was hardly what Tom would call "fine."

"Is there anything else I can get for you today, sir?" Tom asked through gritted teeth.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Yes, maybe an apple pie or two."

"So do you want an apple pie or two?"

Jacob glared at him. 

"Two," the man settled on. 

Tom added two to the order.

"Actually, you know what? I shouldn't break the ol' diet..." The man patted his belly. "No apple pies today."

Groaning, Tom removed them from the order. With his jaw clenched, he once again asked, "Anything else for you today?"

"Nope, what do I owe ya?"

"Thirteen sixty-one."

"Thirteen! Keeps gettin' more and more expensive, dunnit?" The man reached deep into his pocket. "Think I've got a few pence here..."

The line was only growing, and the man was taking his time paying. How Jacob could stand there with a grin on his face, Tom did not know.

The man offered him unhelpful change, forcing Tom to count more out than he would had to have if the man had simply left him with the fifteen quid. Forcing a smile, he handed it back and called the next woman to the front.

"Took you long enough!"

The attitudes of his customers only grew worse as the line went on. After serving thirty-two people, he let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the counter. Rush was over.

"Bollocksed that up something fierce, didn't you?" Jacob said. "C'mon, you. I think it's time we had a chat in my office."

Jacob's office was, for lack of a better word, cramped. There was an old computer, unmarked badges, and the smell seemed to be coming from the outdated uniforms in the tub beneath his desk.

Tom hated the room.

"So, Tom, let me ask you this: Who is in charge here at McDonald's?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "You."

"Sorry," Jacob said, putting his hand to his ear. "I didn't quite catch that."

"You!" Tom repeated, growing more and more annoyed with each passing second.

'That's right. I can have you out of here quicker than you can say Abracadabra! Got that?' Jacob spat menacingly.

"What about 'Avada Kedavra'?" Tom mumbled under his breath.

Jacob raised his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"If you have something to say, just say it, Tom."

Jacob began affectionately rearranging his collection of miniature beanie babies while awaiting Tom’s response, humming to himself, oblivious to the quiet hissing coming from his least favorite employee.

Tom hated humming, he especially hated Jacob's humming.

It had been years since he had dared use his magic. After all, the last time he tried, it ended in disaster. However, he could feel the spell on the tip of his tongue, and as he always did, he carried his wand just in case a situation arose in which he needed it...

"I'm waiting," Jacob sang.

Tom’s eyes glazed over...

maybe a quick imperious and a stroll to the deep fryer was in order, Jacob’s crispy fried fingers would have made lovely treats for Nagini, Merlin rest her souls, she used to love finger food

Tom salivated at the thought, that would certainly keep him warm in bed tonight.

It was only the breeze from Jacob’s oscillating miniature desk fan brushing along the slight trickle of saliva from the corner of his mouth that pulled him from his trip down dismemberment lane.

"Well?"

"Nothing," Tom muttered. "Can I get back to our customers now?"

"That's the spirit, mate!" Jacob said, getting to his feet. "But before you go, one more thing..."

He reached into a box on his desk and pulled out a small sticker. With his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, he stuck it right to Tom's badge.

Tom looked down. It read:

Please be patient with me. I'm in training!

Shaking with rage, Tom glared down at the short-statured teenager.

No! Not happening!' Tom thought. How dare this spotty faced muggle treat him, The Dark Lord, with such outrageous disrespect

"I'd prefer not to wear the sticker, actually, Jacob," he said, his voice cracking, "so if you don't mind, I'm just going to remove it - "

"Oh no you don't! Our customers need to know what standards we have here at McDonald's. If you don't wear the badge, then how can - "

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light and Jacob was on the floor, dead. Oh, how Tom had missed the rush of pure power! The very fibre of his being vibrating with magic!

And now, with Jacob dead, he was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once again. He was Lord Voldemort, the Darkest Wizard of the Age, the most feared wizard in Britain, and the Dark Lord of the McDonald's at the intersection of Edgware and Crawford.


End file.
